


Sir, thats my Emotional Support Skeleton

by Srjacksin (SRjackson), SRjackson



Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Gen, I feel really dumb typing "Death" into the character tags but like, Includes some College!Vlad in early chapters, but yeah this is just Vlad and Danny bonding with the grim reaper lmao, shes the literal personification of death so how the hell else am I supposed to tag that?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:34:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23045623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SRjackson/pseuds/Srjacksin, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SRjackson/pseuds/SRjackson
Summary: Death laughs, and it sounds slightly less like dead leaves this time, "But what is there to understand anyway? Comprehension is overrated."Vlad shifts uneasily under the thin sheets, "I just...I mean, why are you still here? If I'm not going to die? Or am I- I'm not dying, right?""No," she reassures him, "Not for a good long while.""Then why?""Because I can be.""But you shouldn't be - there's people that are actually supposed to be dying. People that actually need you?"She cocks her head mockingly, smile never wavering, "Death doesn't stop because I've decided to keep one man company Vladimir, you're not that special."
Comments: 10
Kudos: 69





	1. Chapter 1

By all accounts, Vladimir Nikolaevich Masters should be dead.

And yet here he was- still living, still breathing, albeit with the assistance of an oxygen tank. 

Cases like these were normally rather open and shut; someone on her schedule survives, walks away with a harrowing tale of their near death experience and a few extra years- and she moves on to claim the next one.

So why, so suddenly, was she still lingering here? Leering over his hospital bed? 

Perhaps he's still yet to kick the bucket? Delays aren't unheard of- and he certainly looks close enough, with his face so pale and scarred and thin-

His eyes flutter open and no, that not right because she's very certain human eyes shouldn't be so red....

At 22 years old, 7 months, 19 days, 23 hours, 8 minutes, and .4 seconds on this earth, Vlad Masters woke to stare Death in the face.

Naturally, he screamed. 

She decided she'd have to forgive him for that, slinking back into her shadowy corner as his panic summons a gaggle of nurses, called forth by the racing of his heart monitor. 

Beep...beep..beep.Beep.Beep.BEEP!

_**Fucking hell those things are annoying**_.....

It takes time, and lots of soothing and shushing, "It's alright dear, just calm down, no giant skeletons here, you're just tired, you poor thing-" before the monitor ceases it's incessant shrieking.

And, then finally, finally, the orderlies flee. 

She was prepared to wait a while, but if he can see her it can't be long now before that monitor flat lines.

And so, she stands in her corner and waits.

\---

Death has been stalking him for nearly a week now.

Well, Vlad's pretty sure it's only been a week, but he's been unconscious most of the time, for all he knew it may have been longer. 

But _Death_.

It's a ludicrous concept, but what else could the damn thing be? The spitting image of a grim reaper, bones draped in black, a psychopomp come to ferry him across the River Styx....

"What the hell are you waiting for?" Vlad's voice comes out weak and raspy, he hasn't spoken to anyone in so long.

The oversized skeleton cocks its head in an unnerving mimicry of a dog and Vlad starts to think that maybe directly addressing fuckin Death Incarnate, wasn't such a great idea-

And then, Death speaks, in a hesitant, whispering echo,

"I̴.̴.̵.̴D̷o̶ ̴N̶o̶t̵ ̷K̵n̸o̸w̸."

"What do you mean you "Don't know?"

"I̵ ̷m̸e̴a̷n̵ ̸t̵o̷ ̷s̶a̵y̴ ̴t̸h̸a̶t̸ ̴I̴ ̵d̷o̵ ̴n̶o̶t̷ ̸u̵n̵d̵e̵r̶s̶t̸a̶n̵d̴ ̶w̷h̶y̷ i̵t̴ ̵̵̵̵̵̵̵̵̵̵̵̵̵̵̵̵i̶s yo̶u̷ ̶s̶t̸i̴l̷l̶ ̴b̸r̷e̶a̶t̴h̷.̷"

"You make it sound like I should already be dead."

Y̷̫̚ȇ̵̫͕s̸̱͖̍̚.̴̺̫͊

"Oh..well...shit...I guess?"

Death makes a noise like wind rustling the leaves of a tree, shoulders shaking slightly, and Vlad realizes it might be laughing-

"W̷e̸l̵l̸ ̸s̴h̵i̶t̴,̶ ̴i̷n̷d̴e̶e̸d̶,̶ ̶V̷l̵a̵d̶i̶m̸i̵r̵."

Death swirls out of the corner, cloak twisting and writhing like smoke. It settles down on the edge of his hospital bed, straightening out It's gown, crossing it's legs as it takes a seat. 

How ladylike. Vlad almost laughs,

But those empty eye sockets staring him down immediately snuff out any sparks of glee.

Death seems to pick up on his discomfort, "M̵y̸ ̸v̵i̸s̷a̵g̶e̶ ̵i̸s̶ ̸u̶n̴n̶e̸r̴v̸i̶n̴g̶ ̷y̵o̷u̴.̸.̷.̷.̸.."

It's a statement, not a question, but Vlad finds himself nodding anyway. 

Death's cloak billows upwards and around them, concealing the skeleton for just a moment. When it settles again Vlad is face to face with a pale young woman. 

"Do you find this shape less disconcerting?" Her voice is soft, and clear. 

The woman- (Its still Death, he reminds himself) is dressed like she's stepped straight out of the Victorian Era. Clad in all black, she looks like a governess in mourning, with her red hair pulled back in a stern bun, and kind violet eyes. 

Vlad can only manage another nod. When did his mouth get so dry? 

"Here," she says, grabbing his shoulder and urging him to sit up, "Drink." 

She hands him a glass of water off the bedside table- had that been there the whole time? Nevermind, it's not important, he needs to focus on not spilling it everywhere his hands are so damn shakey- 

Death wraps her boney fingers around his and steadies them. 

She takes the glass as he empties it, setting it back down with a light clink, eyeing him thoughtfully all the while. 

He clears his throat, "What now?" 

Death presses her palm flat against his chest, her expression becoming cold and unreadable as she forces him to lay back down, "Now, you rest." 

Vlad doesn't argue, and sleep claims him soon enough. 

The night passes so slowly- (time is so complacent) and yet she remains there on the edge of the bed all through those tedious hours, a stalker turned silent sentenial.

She could leave him now, if she wanted. He isn't going to die tonight. Or anytime soon. Vladimir has officially been removed from the docket. 

She stays, be it out of stupid, heedless, curiosity or a sense of creeping unease, it does not matter- because of the faint fluttering she'd felt in his chest. 

Something beyond the pulse of a human heart, a heady thrum that had no place in a living man-

Nothing good can come of it. 

-

She's still there when he wakes. 

"You look so surprised to see me."

"I just...don't understand." 

Her eyes crinkle up at the corners when she smiles, "And you believe that I do?" 

Vlads more than a bit taken aback, isn't she supposed to know these things? "Well..it....it would make sense." 

"Most things don't." Death laughs, and it sounds slightly less like dead leaves this time, "But what is there to understand anyway? Comprehension is overrated." 

Vlad shifts uneasily under the thin sheets, "I just...I mean, why are you still here? If I'm not going to die? Or am I- I'm not dying, right?" 

"No," she reassures him, "Not for a good long while."

"Then  _ why?" _

"Because I can be." 

"But you  _ shouldn't be _ \- there's people that are actually supposed to be dying. People that actually need you?" 

She cocks her head mockingly, smile never wavering, "Death doesn't stop because I've decided to keep one man company Vladimir, you're not that special." 

"But-"

"You are worrying for naught, people have always died, they are still dying. I am here with you, yes. I am also nowhere and everywhere at once. An old man in Georgia has just expired surrounded by loved ones. A child soldier was just shot dead in a foreign war, a beloved Pomeranian was just crushed by a speeding vehicle several blocks away from here, and a woman in the maternity ward has just lost-" 

"Stop." Vlad draws his knees up to his chest bracing his forehead against them with trembling breath, "Just stop." 

Death watches him, so frail and fearful, and suddenly feels... uneasy? No, not quite unease….this is..is this what  _ guilt _ feels like? 

She decides very quickly that she doesn't like it. 

The bed dips almost imperceptibly as she shifts to kneel closer to him, Vlad flinching as she takes his chin in her hands, forcing him to look up at her. 

"I'm sorry I frightened you. And I'm sorry I cannot properly answer the questions you ask. I am nearly as confused as you are." She lets him go now, instead clasping her hands tightly in her lap, confident that he'll hold her gaze, "You are no longer set to die- and yet, you still _see_ _me_. This is an anomaly. All you need understand, is that I mean you no ill will, I mearly wish to sate my curiosity. 

She pauses, toying with the strange black fabric of her skirts, "I've been around a long while, Vladimir, I don't think I can recall the last time I've seen something  _ new _ ." 

Vlad blinks hard, processing her little speech, "I...Thank you?" He's really not sure what else to say to all that. 

Death nods, sliding back off the bed. She hadn't been expecting much of a response anyway. 

"I'll leave you be, for now-" she glances towards the door, "You've visitors, anyway." 


	2. Chapter 2

Death doesn't allow herself to linger long. Instead, she forces her form to dissipate into a fine vapor and funnels her essence out into the hospital's halls. Vladimir is a curious case she has decided to monitor, but there's no need for her to do the same of his guests. Whomever they may be, they're somehow  _ more _ alive than he is now, and the affairs of the living are not her concern. 

At least, this is the excuse she tells herself for the sake of maintaining his privacy. Curiously does not condone rudeness. 

As she lets herself drift through the ICU, She simply revels in the novelty of consciousness. She does not normally have a sense of self- much like the wind or the rain or the tide. Death is a mindless force of nature, except for the few times when she is not. 

Times when she has taken shape and walked. Periods of history rife with humanities strife committed against itself. For a moment her mind is somewhere else. Death walks battle fields stinking of gun powder and the emptied bowels of dying men. She walks across bloodied beaches and napalm drenched earth, through a roaring inferno that consumes Everything But Her- 

And then she is back in the present, and the flames no longer roar in her ears. 

And she thinks,  _ "Hopitals are a battlefield in their own right. The sick are the soldiers that fight within them."  _

Sentiance is a double edged sword and it swings down upon her as she remembers completely. 

She allows her grief to weigh her down and compresses herself back into a human shape to just…  _ feel,  _ for a while. 

As she slumps against the wall she knows she will pull herself from the depths of this churning emotional ocean. With enough time she will again feign indifference to humanities' everlasting plight, until finally her mind dissolves once more. And she will be nature until the Earth's next cataclysmic event wakes her. 

This is a revelation that shakes her. 

What is so special about Vladimir that his botched demise pulled her back into the waking world? 

She is already speed walking back towards his room as she wonders and  _ worries _ . 

She feels his guests before she hears them, hears them before she sees them. The room is spilling over with confusion and regret, despair and anger. And there is yelling, so much yelling as the latter emotions roll off of Vladimir in roiling waves. 

A vase of flowers that was not previously on the nightstand shatters against the far wall as Vlad hurls it at his visitors, voice cracking harshly as he screams, " _ get out!"  _

Their retreat is halting, hesitant, the smaller of the pair trying to pull her large friend away even as he continues to plead with Vlad, "to just talk to them." 

Death doesn't give either party the option. There is already too much turmoil here. She glides through the door and makes herself  _ just  _ solid enough to slam it shut behind her. 

Vlad is curled up on the bed, but he looks up as she approches, hastily wiping away tears.

"...You came back?" 

She shrugs and settles down on the bed, "I said I would." She glances towards the door, still sensing the two humans lingering in the hallway, "I know it's not my business- but what was that all about?" 

"You mean you don't know?" 

She cracks a smile, "What, you thought I was omnipotent?" Death shakes her head, "All I know is that you were  _ supposed  _ to die, and that I had to be here when it happened- everything else is bonus information." 

She cocks her head, "Do you care to enlighten me?"

For a moment, she thinks that he'll refuse, that those wounds are far too fresh to speak of- but after a moment, Vlad nods, takes in a hard, stuttering breath, and begins to explain. 

He tells her how he had met the two humans, Jack, and Madeline, how they had all bonded over a mutual interest in ghosts, and had set out together to prove their existance. 

He tells her about the portal they had tried to build, how their unchecked hubris had led to the Accident that had landed him here. 

He does not state this information as clearly as she'd prefer- but this is what she gathers from his heated rant. 

That, and the fact that he very clearly held his friends at fault for what had happened. 

"-The whole thing was ridiculous. Honestly, everyone else was right, ghosts probably aren't even real and-" 

She cuts him off, "No. They very much are. But I can agree, that  _ was _ a stupid thing to do." 

She sighs fondly, "But really, what else are humans good for if they're not mucking around with things far beyond their understanding, hmm?" 

Vlad blinks up at her, "...ghosts are real?  _ Really _ real?" 

"That's what I just said, yes." She flops down casually across the width of the bed, propping her head up in her hand, "It's funny that you're doubting yourself even after talking to me.' 

She doesn't miss the way his eyes lit up in excitement, "Are you a ghost then?" 

Death frowns, "No. Not quite….I'm in the same vein but….not quite." 

Vlad nods eagerly, as though he understands what she's saying, which is rather impossible, because Death herself hadn't quite understood what she was saying. Her nature was a mystery even to herself. 

"So what are you then? If not a ghost?" 

She sighs, her voice becoming muffled as she burries her face in the thin sheets, "Vladimir, as endearing as I find this new... enthusiasm, of yours, please do refrain from asking me a million questions right this second. I'm scarsley in the mood to answer half of them." 

He lets out a small, "oh," and she understands instantly how disappointed he must be. 

A small part of her wants to try and offer some explanation- offer him her limited knowledge on the subject. But she finds herself feeling far too drained to give into that slight guilt. She can't remember the last time she'd been really, truly  _ conscious,  _ enough to feel anything and emotions are such taxing things….

She decides then to retreat back to her corner, it doesn't seem fair to take up space on his bed. Not when they aren't even conversing. As she stands, her gaze is drawn to the remains of the thrown vase. 

Shards of a pretty blue glass, a small puddle of water, and several white Lilies.

_How_ _appropriate_. 


End file.
